A Convulsive Expulsion of Air
by Diluted Thoughts
Summary: A collection of various-sized drabbles focusing on sneeze-related predicaments.


**Title**: A Convulsive Expulsion of Air  
**Rating**: PG-13 (For swearing, oh my!)  
**Pairings/Characters**: L, Watari, Mello, Matt, Namikawa, Higuchi, child!Mikami, Ms. Mikami, Light, Ryuk, and Sayu. (Mentions of Near, Misa, Mogi, Shimura, Mido, and Hatori.)  
**Warnings**: None, other than slight AU, I suppose.  
**Word Count**: 2,271  
**Author's Note**: Wow, this is my first time writing for six out of the ten characters officially listed above. (Isn't that lovely? ;D) And the title comes from the definition of the word _sneeze_ because I thought it would be oddly fitting for this cracky premise.

* * *

**I.**

L picked up his second-to-last sugar cube from the large silver platter set to his right, and carefully positioned it atop another cube just like it, moving it half a millimeter to the right and then shuffling back to check for any flaws amongst what he had done so far. Watari had suggested he move around more—the inventor was worried that L was at risk for osteoporosis when taking into consideration his poor diet and lack of exercise—and L had relented, deciding to do something that integrated two of his greatest passions: being challenged…and sugar.

So here he was—the world's greatest detective—on his knees, face-to-face with a miniature replica of The Leaning Tower of Pisa constructed entirely out of sugar cubes. He only needed about twenty more sugar cubes to finish it off (along with a toothpick and some tape, perhaps, in order to make a flag). L bit his thumbnail and carefully shifted away from what he considered to be one of his greatest feats to date—something he actually found rather ironic when taking into account he had done it all just to satisfy Watari.

"L," a gravelly voice with an uncanny parental air interrupted his meandering train of thought, "I brought in the sugar cubes you asked for."

"Thank you, Watari." L continued scrutinizing his work and idly gestured to the side with his right hand, gnawing on his thumbnail. "Set them down right there, will you?" He paused as Watari knelt and set down the tray next to him before adding, "And please bring up some chocolate éclairs."

Watari suddenly sniffed, and L discounted it, taking it as a sign of disapproval at his request for more confectionaries. Watari was silent for a moment, save for another sniffle, before he went on to say, "L, this is very impressive."

L made a noise that was a cross between a _Hmm_ and a _Mmn_ from his throat, his own dismissive way of saying _Yes, Watari, now please get me some of those éclairs. _When Watari sniffed again, L turned and eyed the aged inventor warily. "Watari, are you feeling well?"

Watari nodded and began straightening his spectacles. "Yes, everything is qu…_qui_…" He cut himself off abruptly and inserted an _Atchoo_ instead. The force of the sneeze was so intense that Watari's head jerked forward and collided with the heart of L's sugar cubed model. L instantly looked away and covered his ears with his hands. But that was not nearly enough to block out the sound of sugar cubes pitter-pattering to the floor. Watari's glasses also dropped, along with most of L's spirit. The detective inserted an uncharacteristically dejected sigh and got to his feet, shoulders hunched over even more than usual as he decided to get the damn chocolate éclairs himself.

****

II.

Mello slowly peeled away at the wrapper of his second chocolate bar—this one a blissful dark chocolate instead of the milk chocolaty crap he had eaten moments before. At said moment he was feeling very…_bored_, hearing and watching a ridiculously air-headed girl (who could possibly be the second Kira according to Near, but Mello really had his doubts about this) ramble on about how she needed to keep some stupid secret from her boyfriend. His cohort, Matt, sat a few feet away and was too enthralled in his handheld videogame to give a damn about anything else.

Mello leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs in front of him, idly crossing his ankles as he bit into his chocolate bar. They sat there in silence—save for the tinkling of silverware and occasional, "_Mmm!_ Misa thinks Mochi is a good cook!"—when suddenly Matt interrupted with an, "…_Eh_…_Eh_…_Hahtschoo!_"

He blinked at Matt. Once. Twice.

Mello was torn between the urge to say _Gesundheit_, and question his friend about how he could _still_ be hitting the control buttons, even as he sneezed. He went with the latter.

"Hey, Matt? Do you even close your eyes when you _sneeze_?"

"No," Matt said without glancing up, "Screw the myth about your eyeballs popping out of your sockets or some shit like that. All you gotta do is concentrate."

Mello sighed exasperatedly and took another bite of his chocolate, at a loss for words; they relapsed into silence again.

"Hell _yeah_!" Matt suddenly exclaimed a few seconds later, leaving Mello to cock a brow at his goggle-wearing friend. "I got Yosshī back!"

****

III.

"Damn, how long does it take Shimura to get a freakin' cup of coffee? This is getting fucking ridiculous if you ask me."

Namikawa Reiji stopped drumming his fingers against the table and turned to glance at the wolfish creature to his right, suppressing the urge to retort with, "Well, we _didn't_ ask you." How Higuchi Kyosuke (who incidentally looked more wolf than human, leaving Namikawa to halfheartedly wonder if he was some sort of hybrid attempt gone awry) had become the head of Technology Development for Yotsuba, Namikawa did not know. But he _did_ know that he didn't particularly like Higuchi— in fact, he downright resented the way the…the _thing_ had his teeth bared and was unintelligibly grumbling under his breath.

Namikawa wrinkled his nose, as if he had been struck by an unpleasant scent, and began turning away in disgust. Higuchi chose that time and moment to let go a sneeze with such ferocity that Namikawa actually jumped up a bit. The quiet murmurs of conversation halted abruptly and everyone turned to look at Higuchi, with the exception of Mido, who turned and regarded the usually poker-faced Namikawa curiously.

Namikawa cleared his throat, visibly embarrassed, and shot a cross glare at Higuchi. "Most people would _excuse_ themselves," Namikawa said matter-of-factly, throwing a long lock of dark hair over his shoulder for emphasis.

To his surprise, Higuchi merely sniggered. "Yeah, most people would," Higuchi agreed easily enough. "Sorry if I pissed off the great and dignified Namikawa,"—he waved his hands about mockingly, looking like a page feigning respect—"I'll tell you what: I'll treat you to an all-expense paid trip to the salon so you can get your hair feathered and all dolled-up! That'll make up for it, right?" Higuchi howled with laughter once he finished and banged his palm against the table repeatedly.

Namikawa sputtered indignantly for a few moments as he tried to counter with a snide remark of his own, but was too put off by Higuchi's jeers and the other members' snickering disguised as coughing to conjure up a proper response; even Mido was smiling as he "coughed" softly behind his hand. The young vice president leaned back in his chair and tried to act as nonchalant as possible, though he had never felt so disconcerted in his whole life.

Fortunately for him, Hatori walked in that very second with a cup of coffee. The bleach-blond looked around with a bemused expression. When his gaze fell on the chuckling Higuchi, he ventured to ask: "Eh? Did I miss something?"

"No, you didn't," Namikawa stated shortly. He folded his hands over the table elegantly, determined to maintain what dignity he had left. "Now let's carry on, shall we?"

But as the meeting was about to ensue, Namikawa couldn't help but wish that _he_ was Kira; that way he could dispose of Higuchi before he caught his special breed of infectious rabies.

****

IV.

Cough. Sniffle. Sneeze.

These were the sounds that Mikami Sayoko heard as she desperately tried to finish balancing her checkbook. Not only did she have to total without a calculator (it had fell out of a hole in her purse), but it was ridiculously _hot_ for a spring afternoon; her skin was sticky and slick, and her hair was stuck to the back of her neck. To make matters even worse, her ten-year-old son, Teru, had a terrible case of the allergies and was curled up on the couch, going through tissue after tissue for his sinuses. She had already told him that she was not going to waste gas and take an unnecessary trip to the convenience store just to buy him more tissues; refusing to reuse the ones he already had more than once was entirely his ludicrous decision, and it was based on his inherent and slightly neurotic dislike of germs.

"Mom," Teru started sluggishly, "can we please shut the window?"

Sayoko set her pen down and had to take a deep breath to prevent herself from glaring at her son. "No, Teru. Our electricity bill is already pick-pocketing all of our money. We can't possibly afford to turn on another fan." They already had one fan on, and that was directed at her son.

"Can you…"—Teru turned away and sneezed again, and then grabbed for another tissue with his pale hands—"…can you just take the one fan that's on, and then we can shut the window? I don't mind if it's hot."

She sighed and shook her head. "Teru, you're a very sensitive boy. You'll run the risk of getting dehydrated, or even a heatstroke." Sayoko neglected to mention that a trip to the hospital was _not_ in their budget right now.

Teru looked like he was going to try and say something, but stopped at the last minute, perhaps thinking better of it. He leaned back into the couch and took off his glasses, rubbing his red and watery eyes with fisted hands. Sayoko gazed at her fussy, difficult little boy for a long moment without saying anything. Despite the heat, he was curled up even more closely than before—nose red and puffy like a cherry tomato as he continued to sniffle, and voice unusually hoarse as he fell into a fit of coughs. Her son looked so weary and distressed that the mother in Sayoko finally relented.

She got up and shut the window, and left the fan directed at Teru.

****

V.

__

"Hey, Light! Stop studying and get me an apple! I think I deserve one after watching you take your stupid tests all day. Are you listening to me? I said…"

And so by shutting his bedroom door with more force than was needed and taking the stairs down two at a time, Yagami Light now found himself in the kitchen. Staring at a basketful of apples. Deliberating which one looked slightly less appetizing than the rest. He picked up one that was a bit dented and lopsided and threw it from one hand into the other, idly wonder if Ryuk would notice if he covered it in air freshener spray—or even with insecticide. Shinigami couldn't die, so what was the harm? Ryuk deserved to get his just rewards for being on his case all day—constantly nagging him about how boring tests were, and why humans bothered to get an education when they wound up dying anyway.

Light deliberated this all with mild interest, a part of him realizing that even as he thought about such, it probably wasn't going to worst and would simply be a waste of time and effort. Ryuk knew the difference between apples from the human world and the shinigami realm, but that didn't mean he had acute taste-buds. The thought struck Light peculiarly: _did_ shinigami have taste-buds?

Instead of getting an answer, Light felt his sinuses prickle and jerked his head away to sneeze, dropping the apple on the counter in the process.

"God bless you, onii-chan!"

Light blinked and turned around slowly, coming face-to-face (and he used that term loosely, considering she wasn't even to his shoulders yet) with his little sister. Uncharacteristic as though it was for the intellectually competent and ever-so-clever Yagami Light, all he managed to drawl was: "…_Huh?_"

This time it was Sayu's turn to blink, and she did so rather curiously. "…_God bless you_," she repeated slowly. "Isn't that what they say in America when someone sneezes?"

Light thought it over for a moment, still reeling in from his sister's abrupt intrusion. "I suppose they do," he remarked absently. _God bless you_. He found the phrase intriguing, even in the most standard of contexts. A part of Light contemplated whether he should be upset—after all, _he_ was going to be the new _god_ of the world, wasn't he? The phrase would only truly be befitting when he formally christened himself as a sanctioned ruler, all-knowing and all-powerful—

"Uh, onii-chan?" Sayu asked, swiftly pulling Light out of his distant reverie. "Are you gonna stand there all day? I'd like to get a snack."

Light moved to the side and absentmindedly watched as his sister grabbed a pear from the bowl of fruit on the counter. Upon realizing why he had come downstairs in the first place, Light picked up the discarded apple on the counter.

"_Eww!_"

Light raised an eyebrow at his sister. "What?"

"Aren't you going to wash your hands first?!"

It took a moment for Light to realize that Sayu was referring to the fact he had sneezed. He smiled disarmingly. "I've got a pretty good immune system, Sayu."

"Whatever! It's _gross_!" Sayu made a face at him for emphasis as she started nibbling on her pear.

Light shrugged and began going up the stairs, apple in hand. He was only partially surprised when Ryuk met him halfway and barraged him with, "What's taking so long?! Listen, Light, if you're going to mess with me like this, maybe I should just kill you now and…" Light tuned out his threats until both he and Ryuk were back in his room, and the door had been shut.

Light tossed Ryuk the apple and watched with mild interest as he gobbled it up, suddenly wishing that shinigami _were_ prone to disease and illnesses.


End file.
